


Never Gonna Change

by Grapeofwrath



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV), cillian murphy - Fandom
Genre: Cillian Murphy - Freeform, F/M, Peaky Blinders - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-13
Updated: 2015-01-13
Packaged: 2018-03-07 11:49:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3173032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grapeofwrath/pseuds/Grapeofwrath





	Never Gonna Change

One taste of Tommy Shelby makes you feel like you are drowning. The fear hits you before you even open your mouth to say ‘hello’. Power has a name and that name can get you a lot of things, or enough things to kill you. Everything you’ll do for him will be involuntary. You’ll hold your breath as soon as he looks at you because men like that tell you when to speak, when to think, when to be. He’s a king whose throne is your home, your future, your money, and every little thing you have left. You won’t know it yet, and if you do, you won’t mind because being ignorant to the truth will keep you alive long enough for the water to fill your lungs. And you’ll like the taste of this one. And you’ll welcome death because he’s handsome and his eyes are as blue as the sea that will kill you.

His name is on the tip of your tongue. Everyone talks about him in whispers like he’s some sort of monster, but you’re the girl that plays with things in the dark. It’s dangerous business calling him out. It’ll feel like all of Birmingham is looking straight at you, their eyes needling your skin. Don’t cause a stir, dear. You were raised right even though you ran the streets until your knees were dirty with secrets. Being polite only got you so far here, but being yourself, well, that put money in your pocket and a man at your disposal.

"And who are you?" Tommy Shelby asks.

No, not ask. Shelby’s don’t ask for anything. Instead, they took. His eyes remind you of that with their piercing threats.

 

You resist the urge to play him like all males loved to be played with. The whispers are deathly quiet but you are aware of the incentive :Tommy Shelby will kill you if you so much as breathe a wrong word to him. Your eyes take in Arthur and John, and every little boy whose parents allow them to be in a pub so late at night.

 

“I’m nobody” you tell him.

 

You want to believe that he’s smiling, that the corners of his mouth turn up for you, but you know that the only girl they’ve ever moved for was Grace. They talk about her, too. Maybe she’s prettier than you. Maybe she’s somebody.

 

"What was it you said back there?" Tommy asks.

 

You don’t back down even though he waits for you to cower. ” I asked if you were going to take this whole place down with you”

 

It isn’t smart of you. Hearing the words come out of your mouth makes everything feel more harsh. Birmingham is your home and it’s been going up in flames for years. The police activity is out of control. Beggars and liars ran tricks in the night. You barely passed a man at daybreak whose blood didn’t come from the red right hand. Sins lay at your doorstep each night, calling out your name, and you are exhausted. You yearn for peace, and other things that the Shelby name hasn’t all but gambled away.

 

You wait for the slap, the kick, the punch, the scolding. Will it come in the night in the form of a small hand clasped over your mouth? Will they disgrace you instead? Your name already means nothing, but can they take that away too?

 

“Would you go down with it? he asks.

 

Tommy’s face lightens up and suddenly everything is over. The color comes back to his cheeks, and just like that the tension melts away. The barmaid laughs her rowdy, drunken chortle. Arthur bounces a red-haired woman on his knee, her breasts suffocating his face. John smiles politely at you, tipping his hat as if everything is just a joke, a game. The world is alive with the people your father warned you about.

Your eyes find Tommy Shelby whose back is already turned toward you, his exit only noticed by you. You follow him. You can’t keep up. He has some place to be and he won’t worry about the likes of you, but he knows you are there. You file out onto the street and look left and look right. The air is balmy, but there is nothing to stop the chill. Oh, it’s always the chill, isn’t it? First, it covers your neck and then it works down your breasts and wraps around your spine like a cold fist. You shake with fever. You’re going to let it control you.

"You know, I won’t have to do that if you just listened to me"

 

Tommy Shelby leans against the wall, a fresh cigarette dangling from his lips. He holds his hat in this hands. You watch the razor blade shining in the moonlight before walking towards him and taking the cigarette straight from his mouth. The drag you take feels like your last.

 

“Tell me what else you would do to me” you say, placing the cigarette back in his mouth.

 

He doesn’t say much now and he hasn’t said much since he started coming around to your place. He leaves in the morning before anyone can speculate what he does with their money. Tommy tells you that he doesn’t want Polly catching wind about where his cock has been, but you suspect this is only about Grace. Word travels all over when your last name is as iconic as it is dangerous.

Tommy tilts his head and watches the way you slowly hitch up your dirt-stained dress. He bought you a new dress once but he tore it to bits the same night. Now you know better.

 

"You’ve embarrassed me " you tell him. Your fingers climb up your own thighs before dipping between them.

Tommy won’t look there anymore. He’ll only look you in the eye and maybe he’ll see you as more than just what you are, but you don’t count on it. You are a hot,wet, pussy and the taste of you is just as murderous as the taste of him.

"What do you want from me?" Tommy often asks. Tonight is no different.

He tosses his cigarette to the ground and puts his hat on his head. You remove your hand from between your legs and lightly press them to his lips. You feel a slight flick of his tongue against your skin, but mostly hot breath. He closes his eyes and his breath rattles. Sometimes you wonder if he regrets the first kiss, or if he thinks of her every time. Is it courage that drives him forward, or is it fear?

 

"Fuck me" he whispers.

 

Tommy grabs your neck and brings your lips to his. His hands squeeze your throat a little too hard. You gasp for air between kisses. His tongue fills your mouth. You work through layers of clothing to feel your fingertips on his warm, firm stomach. Both of you are wrapped up in each other until voices pepper the neighborhood. There is always a point where Tommy loses himself in you, but there will always be something that brings him back. He’ll forget how you made him feel in the moment. He’ll forget that sometimes you are human, too. You are not Grace. You are just for fucking here, there, or anywhere.

 

“You should go home’ he says.

 

"You’re a real gentlemen" you retort, your voice rising to a level that would normally get you hurt, but Tommy doesn’t care, or notice. You fix your raggedy dress and hair. You open your mouth to say something before he stops you.

 

"Don’t, okay? Not tonight"

"Tommy…"

 

"Do you want me to fuck you?"

 

He’s as annoyed as you are. His eyes are glazed over,unfocused. You approach him again and unbutton his trousers, yanking them past his strong thighs. Your movements are mechanical and you know it will be the very last time you do this.

 

"Not here" he says, but you are on your knees and it’s too late.

 

This is all that you are: His cock in your mouth, his eyes on top of your head, his fingers grazing your shoulders. Your knees are dirty again, but they are nothing compared to the way the rest of you feels. Tommy relaxes against the wall. He breathes in deeply. You can hear his moans, though he tries to stifle them. You intentionally dig your fingernails into his thighs so that he’ll feel pain.

 

"Stop" he whispers. "Stop everything"

 

"Doesn’t it feel good?" you ask. You take his cock in your hands and stroke him. There are tears threatening to spill in your eyes but you blink them away. This man should not matter to you. You’re just another whore, just another warm thing to keep him from sleeping at night. You stop the nightmares, but who will stop them for you?

 

"Yes…No..get up" Tommy says.

 

You rise up. You can barely look at him as he hikes his trousers up around his slim waist. You wonder what he’ll do next, and you don’t expect the kiss he plants on your cheek, or how you pull away from him.

 

"I’m sorry" he says.

 

"Are you?" you ask, the venom in your voice hard to contain. "Tommy, you don’t owe me a God damn thing, but I just ask you to please tell me if it’s me. Am I that horrible?”

 

Tommy looks almost apologetic “No..I-“

 

"Than show me. Show me what it’s like to be with you and not just sucking you off in the middle of the road, or parading about town looking for places to hide and fuck. I want to feel human, Tommy. I want to feel wanted. I want...I want to feel like her”

 

The mention of Grace makes Tommy’s jaw click. You’ve hit a nerve with him, but he’s always been good to you and he’ll forgive you again. He nods. He grabs your arm roughly and drags you down the street. You look back at where you both stood and smiled.

 

He doesn’t bring you to his place, but rather leads you to yours. Everything looks the same in your bedroom as you enter but you realize that you are not the same. Tommy smiles warmly. You know it’s an act just for you, but you don’t care. He lights a few candles on your table and raps his knuckles on the wood.

 

" Are you nervous, Mr. Shelby?" you ask, smirking, and clearly pleased with the turn of events.

 

The same question he always asks you lingers, but he doesn’t speak it from his lips.

You sit on the edge of your bed and remove your shoes. It’s quiet in the house but the sound of your thoughts speak louder than any noise can.

Tommy strides over to you and for once he sinks to his knees. Taking your foot in his hand, he raises your leg up and kisses the soft skin. His rough hands move up your pale, milky calf. You lean back on your elbows and brace yourself for the ferocity of Tommy’s touch.

 

Passion. The word comes to your mind. Normally the pair of you would spend the night fucking once, twice, sometimes three times. You were like animals when drunk. His sweat would drip onto your back and his fingernails would draw blood. You would bite down on his neck and come on his tongue. He was always gone in those moments with his eyes closed tight, and sometimes when he took you from behind your blonde hair would remind him of the past.

 

He chose you because you look like her.

 

Tommy’s mouth wets your inner thigh. You let him bunch your dress around your waist while your fingers move down to your clit. He growls something like the word “patience” and removes your hands from yourself. His grip is tight, demanding. With his swollen lips he places his head between your thighs, pushes your undergarments to the side, and gives just a small enough suck to make your legs shake. His hands seem huge when they knead up your body to remove your dress.

Tommy presses his hand into the small of your back and brings you closer to him. His fingers tickle up your spine. The touch makes your nipples harden and causes Tommy to lightly nibble on them, his tongue swirling around your breasts. He rests his chin on your chest and looks up at you. His eyes look so full of sorrow.

You let your fingers comb through his hair before lying on your back and letting him wreak havoc on your body. If you were Grace, he would treat you like his Queen. Tommy Shelby would not want to disappoint. Slowly, he slides your undergarments down to the floor. His lips find your thighs again. He kisses a path all the way up and ends it with a light kiss to your clit. You tangle yourself in the sheets, watching his looming shadow on the wall. His tongue opens you up and he licks you everywhere it can reach. Tommy has always gone down on you but this time it’s different. He eats your pussy like it’s the last thing he will ever do in his sad, miserable life. You wrap your legs around his head and let your head fall all the way back when his tongue pushes you far past coming. 

Tommy breaks out into a grin. The laughter escaping his mouth makes you angry. You push him out from between your legs and slide your body off of the bed. You feel like you are in a frenzy. Fuck passion. Fuck slow. You shove Tommy against the wall. He stumbles into your wardrobe and knocks a few things to the ground. Any trace of amusement and smugness vanishes from his face. You kiss him hard, tearing his jacket from his body. He gets the hint and picks you up into his arms, throwing you back onto the bed. He removes any clothing he’s wearing with haste. You admire his body in what little light there is. His cock is hard, but that isn’t the most interesting part. What feels most compelling is the look Tommy gives you: somewhere between adoration and a neediness so fierce that you sense it in your bones.

This is who he is, too. You are both so hopelessly in love with someone you can’t have. You both know what it’s like, and you feel it every time you come together. The torture is addicting for both of you. You take it because you think it’s what you deserve and you fuck it until it makes you hate yourself.

Tommy pulls you to him by your legs and wastes no time in proving you right. You hold him tight and let your body rise to meet his. You won’t let go. You’ll happily burn down with him.

 

Grace may have parts of Tommy Shelby, but she will never have this. One day when you’re on a street with your baby and your husband you’ll see Tommy. Maybe one day he’ll see you, too.


End file.
